


the wind was sweet and smelled of home

by kenobilovebot



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, Just random little drabbles, i LOVE sleepy connor, sleepy Connor, so much sleepy connor probably okay, this one is soft stuff, to separate them, when i have smth angsty i'm gonna post another thing for it, yeehaw
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-30
Updated: 2020-01-30
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:13:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22474669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kenobilovebot/pseuds/kenobilovebot
Summary: A random collection of ( self - indulgent ) one - shots. Mostly featuring Hank & Connor's dynamic tbh. All fluff here.
Relationships: Hank Anderson & Connor
Comments: 3
Kudos: 41





	the wind was sweet and smelled of home

**Author's Note:**

> This one is set just after the Kamski chapter.

Hank hadn’t thought that Androids slept, but here Connor goes, proving him wrong yet again. Then again, he really doesn’t know jack shit about Androids beyond what he’s picked up from -- surprise, surprise -- Connor. 

The android’s features are slack, eyes closed and hands folded in his lap, LED cycling gentle blue at his temple and head tilted back against the headrest of the car seat. If Hank were a little more sentimental, he’d say it was endearing. 

Yeah, well, he’s _ not. _ Sentimental, that is. And it’s not endearing. 

Nope. Not even a little.

“Fucking android,” he grumbles, shifting forward in his seat and turning his eyes back to the road. They’re supposed to go back to the station, let Fowler know what had happened with Kamski before he heads home and Connor goes to -- well, wherever he goes when he’s not following Hank around like a poodle. They’re both tired, though, wrung out from the whole ordeal, and Connor especially seems to almost be in some state of shock over his own actions. Sparing Chloe, putting the other android before the mission. He’d been distant, withdrawn, for the half hour or so before he’d dozed off. Gone into standby, rest mode? That’s what computers do, isn’t it? Whatever the hell they call it. 

His disciplinary record already looks like a novel, as Fowler had shouted at him the other day. He’s really not much in the mood to go back to the station and be reamed out, nor to deal with snide remarks about his “plastic pet,” as Gavin has oh - so - fucking - cleverly dubbed Connor. 

Hank turns toward home and away from the DPD. One more page isn’t gonna do much. If Fowler wanted to fire him, he’d have done it by now. No shits to be given. Fowler can suck it.

The turn doesn’t rouse Connor, but Hank is startled beyond reason when he feels a warm weight come to rest abruptly against his shoulder, the movement having shifted the android in his direction. “Oh, fuckin' hell,” he mutters, but there’s no heat behind it, and he doesn’t try to move him. 

Because he doesn’t want to take his hands off the wheel in the snow. That’s the only reason he doesn’t move him, or shove him away. Not because he has a soft spot for a machine, and _ not  _ because he’s some sentimental sap.

The drive home is quiet, lacking even the steady breathing that usually comes with sleep. A human’s sleep, anyway. He makes a mental note to ask Connor about that later, when he can think up some offhand, assholish way to put it that won’t come across as genuine curiosity. Do androids not need to breathe at all? Eh, probably not.

“Alright, rise ‘n shine, sleeping beauty,” he says once they pull into the driveway, trying to form the words into some sort of growl, but he’s horribly sure that it’s a failed effort. There’s a funny little murmur as Connor seems to pull half out of sleep mode, not yet realizing where he is, but the kid doesn’t move. “C’mon. Seriously, you can go back into standby or whatever the fuck you call it once we get to the couch. Not gonna have you sit in the car all afternoon.”

He half expects the android to argue that he needs to go to -- well, again, wherever the hell he goes when he isn’t here. Cyberlife, maybe? -- but no such argument comes. Connor sits up slowly, rubbing at his face in a painfully human gesture, and opens the door. Hank watches him go to the front porch, a frown creasing his brow. That’d been a little too easy, given the amount of backtalk Connor usually offers. Still out of sorts from the whole Kamski thing then, or maybe it’s something else. Maybe it’s just weariness.

Well, Hank decides to count his blessings for once. He’s not gonna look a gift horse in the mouth. Not today, anyway. 

Once inside, the kid sinks into the couch cushions, already mesmerized by Sumo -- again, surprise, surprise. Hank heads to the fridge to get his usual beer and then returns to the living room, dropping onto the couch on the other side of Connor and reaching for the remote. 

He’s not so surprised this time when the weight returns to his shoulder, and less so when he glances down and finds the android apparently asleep again. Weird, he thinks this time. He wouldn’t have thought that androids would have given off heat so similar to a human’s body heat. Maybe one of those stupid integration things Connor had mentioned. 

This time, he doesn’t have an excuse for not shoving the kid off onto the couch. He tells himself it’s simple laziness. And well, it’s not like it’s hurting anyone. He can tolerate it for a little while if it means Connor will be in a better mindset after sleeping. 

Just for a little while.


End file.
